


The Neighbor's Gelding

by thewanderingwendigo (dakotathedrow)



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, The horses are the matchmakers, Tristhad Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dakotathedrow/pseuds/thewanderingwendigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galahad was seriously considering putting a padlock on his stallion's stall.</p><p>(Wherein Galahad is the frustrated owner of an equine escape artist, and Tristan is a quiet loner living a little ways down the road with a mischievous gelding that is ultimately responsible for all the shenanigans that ensue).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting the Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first go at fanfiction and I'm a little nervous about posting it, but I love this ship so much and when this idea popped into my head I couldn't resist. Rating might go up, depending on the content of later chapters.
> 
> I do not have a beta so any errors are mine and mine alone.

Galahad was seriously considering putting a padlock on his stallion's stall.

For the third time this week, he trudged down the dusty road leading from his newly-inherited stable to the neighboring ones, halter and lead in hand and a deep frown set on his face. He sighed heavily as the familiar sign over the driveway came into view, and wondered how he was going to apologize yet again for his escapee. 

And lo, the owner of the property was lounging back on the bench on his porch, a mug of coffee in one hand and an apple in the other. Galahad felt a tiny prick of irritation that the man was just sitting there, watching their two horses nuzzling over the fence and not lifting a finger to stop them, but squashed it quickly. It was his fault that he couldn't keep his own stallion under control.

Forcing a smile, Galahad waved. The owner nodded at him in acknowledgment. He'd never actually spoken to him the previous couple of times this had happened. The man had either been completely silent or had not been present when he dropped by to pick up his runaway. "This is becoming a routine," Galahad huffed, stopping beside the porch. He glanced back over his shoulder at the two horses. "Sorry about this. I suppose I need to start chaining his door closed or something."

"He's not hurting anything," the owner replied with a shrug, taking a swig from his coffee. His voice was fairly deep, and accented with something European but from where, exactly, he couldn't tell. Galahad waited for him to say something more, perhaps. But no, the man just went back to staring at the two horses, content to let the awkward silence stretch on indefinitely.

"Right. So. I'll just, um..." Galahad made a vague gesture at the horses and started inching away. 

"Suit yourself." The owner rose and made for the porch door.

"Uh, wait!" Galahad said, returning to the edge of the porch steps. The man turned around and cocked his head at him. "I never properly introduced myself." Mother would have my head if she were here. He stuck out a hand. "Galahad."

The man considered his outstretched hand for a moment before bringing his apple to his mouth and holding it in his teeth, taking the proffered hand in a slightly sticky handshake. He garbled out what Galahad assumed was his name around the apple before turning and disappearing inside his house.

Galahad blinked. Okay. Feeling a little put off, he turned to go collect his stallion, wiping the stickiness of the apple residue off on his pants. Nero's head shot up as he approached, and he stared at him accusingly from behind his long, slightly wavy forelock. "Oh, don't give me that look," he grumbled, throwing his lead rope over the stallion's large, muscular neck. "This is your fault. You're the one who keeps slipping out for a moonlight tryst with your boyfriend, not me."

The dappled gelding - the boyfriend in question - nickered softly over the gate to his pasture, and it sounded almost like he was chuckling at him. Galahad narrowed his eyes at the seemingly innocent gelding as he finished securing the buckle on Nero's leather halter, not an easy feat as his stallion was valiantly trying to nuzzle his hand in pursuit of the last bits of apple flavor. "I'd very much appreciate it if you'd stop seducing my stallion," he muttered in reply. "This early morning jaunt is getting to be a bit of a nuisance."

"Pretty sure it's the other way around, actually," a sudden voice said, just behind Galahad's ear. He stumbled forward and then whipped around, ready to lay into the man for startling him. Instead, he found a mug of coffee shoved under his nose. "Here. Don't drop it. I don't have that many mugs to spare."

Galahad glared at him a bit suspiciously, not liking the mischievous glint that had appeared in the man's dark eyes. His messy brown hair, mixed with little gray streaks here and there, hung around his face and partially over his eyes, giving him the appearance of a certain four-legged animal he knew too well. He and his gelding wore almost identical expressions, and Galahad didn't know which he was more inclined to trust.

Nevertheless, it'd be rude to turn down a perfectly good mug of coffee. Galahad carefully lifted the mug off the man's hands and took a sip, making an appreciative noise. It was nice, strong coffee. He usually preferred his with sugar but he wasn't about to complain when he'd just been given free caffeine.

"Thanks. I didn't quite catch your name earlier." _You know, because you had an entire apple stuffed in your face._

"Tristan," the man replied easily, leaning back against a weathered fence post. He gestured towards the penned gray gelding. "Oscar." The gelding nickered again, reaching over the fence hopefully. The man - Tristan - rewarded him with a scratch on the cheek.

"This is Nero," Galahad replied, patting his stallion's neck. "I have to say, I'm a little surprised that he took to your gelding. He usually hates other male horses."

"Maybe the other ones he's met were too uptight," Tristan suggested. Galahad bristled slightly at the deliberate, not-so-subtle poke at his social station, and possibly his own attitude. "Too fancy. Oscar's laid-back, easy to get along with."

 _Unlike his owner,_ Galahad thought bitterly. He tried to paste a pleasant smile on his face. "Perhaps." He took another sip of his coffee. And changed the subject. "Do you own this place?"

The man glanced out over his pastures. "Yeah. Bought it about a year ago." Silence. It's like this man literally didn't care if the conversation just died and left Galahad to stand there, awkwardly trying to revive it by himself.

"I see.” Galahad glanced around to see if Tristan had any other horses, but only saw Oscar and his own. Still, he felt like he needed to ask. “Do you breed, or train, or...?"

"No."

Galahad sighed noisily, well and truly fed up with trying to converse with this man. "Alright. It's obvious that you don't actually want to talk to me, so I'll just take my horse and leave." He gulped the last bit of coffee out of his mug and shoved it back at Tristan. "Thanks for the coffee."

He clucked to get Nero going and started the long walk back to his own stable, ignoring the plaintive whinnies of Oscar and the searing gaze of his owner as he made his way onto the dirt road.

_____________________________________

Tristan and Oscar watched the smaller man leave with his stallion. He stroked Oscar's face in sympathy and the gelding nudged him, looking terribly crestfallen at the absence of his larger companion. "I wouldn't worry so much," Tristan confided to his horse, running his fingers through the gelding's dark mane. "He'll be back." He glanced back up at the tiny retreating figures, and smirked a little.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galahad has a brief reprieve from his daily morning outings, but it unfortunately doesn't last long. He can't resist the lure of delicious coffee and ends up telling his mysterious neighbor a bit about his downfall as a professional rider, while also learning a few interesting things about Tristan, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this being late! Unfortunately I had family issues to deal with but they're mostly sorted out now. Hopefully I can update in a timely manner tomorrow. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Galahad had two mornings blissfully free of any early trips to the neighbors'. He was able to rise at a semi-normal time and even fix himself a cup of coffee before heading down to the stable to feed the horses, although he was a little disappointed that his coffee didn't seem nearly as good as Tristan's. He tried to put it out of his mind and go on with his day, and mostly succeeded.

Come Friday morning, though, the familiar sight of an open, empty stall greeted Galahad upon arrival at the stable. Groaning, he rubbed a hand over his face and grabbed Nero's halter off the wall with a little more force than was probably necessary.

This time when he arrived at the gate, he was shocked to see that Nero was happily grazing beside Oscar. Inside the gelding's pasture. At first he wondered if his stallion had really jumped the five-and-a-half-foot tall fence to get to his 'boyfriend', or else had somehow managed to unlatch the gate and let himself in. He almost immediately dismissed the idea when he saw Tristan, leaning over the porch railing, with a rather satisfied look on his face.

Galahad marched over to him. "What the _hell_ are you thinking?" he growled, gesturing wildly to the two horses. "You can't just...just put a strange stallion in with your gelding! They could get into a fight, or-"

"He's not a strange stallion, though," Tristan cut him off. "They know each other. They get along fine. Look." He pointed to the pasture. Galahad eyed the two calmly grazing horses unhappily. They weren't helping at all.

"That isn't the point," Galahad continued, but Tristan held up a hand to silence him.

"The point is, you don't have a point," Tristan replied, taking a crisp bite out of the apple he held in one hand. Honestly, did this man subside on coffee and apples alone? "For reasons I haven't quite figured out yet, you just enjoy being angry at me." One corner of his mouth quirked up in a barely discernible half-smirk. It would have been well-hidden behind the man's gray-streaked beard, but the flash of amusement in his eyes gave it away.

Galahad didn't have an answer ready for that. He just opened his mouth and closed it several times. Finally he threw his hands into the air, exasperated. "I give up." He plopped down on the porch stairs, slouching a little. "So, what now? Do I just let my horse trot himself down here for sleepovers twice a week, or should we work out a schedule and I'll walk him over? Bring his little horsey overnight bag, perhaps pack a lunchbox with his favorite carrots and peppermint treats?" he asked sarcastically. 

Tristan shrugged. "As I said before, he's not hurting anything. I don't mind him being here." He straightened and headed for the door again, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Want coffee?"

Galahad briefly considered saying _no_ , he didn't want coffee, he wanted to get his horse and leave and preferably never have to come back. But his mind clearly remembered the taste of that delicious coffee and his traitorous mouth opened and replied "Coffee would be great," before he could actually say no.

Tristan held the door open and Galahad sighed, hanging his head a bit in defeat as he followed the infuriating man inside. The first thing he noticed was that the porch opened right into a small kitchen. The second thing he noticed was that there weren't any lights on in the house, although two windows provided passable enough lighting. He stayed on the welcome mat just inside the door, unsure of whether he should take his boots off or leave them on.

Tristan had already moved to stand in front of the coffee pot on the stove, boots still on. He turned and stared, unblinking, at Galahad. “Problem?”

Galahad shook his head and figured it was alright for him to step onto the tile floor, shoes and all. Though the house was small and rather lived-in, it was kept clean. There wasn't a single dish in the sink and the floor was mostly free of dirt. He was, however, curious about the lack of lighting. “Are you trying to save on electricity?” he asked jokingly, keeping his tone even.

“It went out a couple days ago,” Tristan replied, effectively killing all attempts at humor. Galahad's eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“Oh.” Feeling awkward, Galahad shifted from foot to foot. “Does that happen...often?”

“More often than it should,” Tristan replied cryptically as he poured the coffee into the same two mugs from yesterday. “Doesn't matter. Should be back on in a few days, and I've got a cooler until it's fixed.” He seemed to pause before grabbing the mugs, glancing over at Galahad. “I don't keep cream, but I have milk and sugar, if you would like some.”

“Just sugar's fine,” Galahad replied quickly, grateful. As much as he'd enjoyed the black coffee he'd been given the last time he was here, the familiar comfort of sugar was an offer he wasn't about to turn down.

“How much?” Tristan opened a cupboard above the counter top and pulled out a small jar, which Galahad assumed held the sugar.

“Two.” He fidgeted, dropping a hand on the back of one of the two chairs that were pulled out from the small table.

Tristan quirked an eyebrow at him. His expression was unreadable but his brown eyes were dancing with laughter. He nodded to the chair Galahad was standing by. “Feel free to sit down. I'm almost certain the chairs won't eat you.”

Glaring a little, Galahad sat down in the seat he'd been leaning on. He tapped his foot nervously against the tiled floor as he waited for his coffee. _I really should get out of the house more_ , he mused privately. His social life was clearly lacking if being around just one other person was so nerve-wracking. 

Finally, Tristan turned away from the counter and carefully handed him his mug. Galahad took it gratefully, breathing in the hot steam and the delicious aroma of fresh coffee before taking a sip. If it was great the other day, it was positively amazing with the blessed addition of sugar to temper the bitterness. He took another long drink and sighed, closing his eyes briefly in appreciation.

When Galahad opened his eyes again, he realized with a bit of a start that Tristan had been watching him with open amusement and delight over the rim of his own mug. The emotion was quickly hidden away and Tristan's gaze dropped back to his coffee. Galahad decided to put that particular interaction down to pride in his ability to make good coffee, as the alternative was far too confusing to puzzle out right now.

Galahad cleared his throat and searched for some sort of conversational topic, eager to break the awkward silence that had befallen them. “So...how did you come to live here?” he asked. “It's rather out of the way, isn't it?”

Tristan shrugged, setting his mug down in front of him and then leaning back in his chair. “I saw it for sale, and since it was reasonably priced, I bought it. I don't mind that it's remote. In fact, I enjoy the peace and quiet. Having too many people around causes problems where horses are concerned. Oscar is more comfortable with little company.” The slight upturn of his lips at that went mostly unnoticed by Galahad.

 _Like his owner, I expect. He doesn't seem the type to have a large social circle._ “And...what is it you do? For work, I mean,” Galahad clarified quickly. He found that under the mask of politeness he was actually genuinely curious. What sort of job would a person like Tristan have, anyways?

“My work has nothing to do with the horses,” Tristan replied, cocking his head. He didn't continue for several moments, and Galahad was beginning to feel the urge to strangle him again. Luckily for him, he spoke up a beat later. “I work at the wildlife sanctuary. In the next town over.”

“Oh?” Galahad's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't seen that one coming. He'd originally pegged Tristan for a horse trainer, but after that idea had been laid to rest he hadn't been quite sure what to think.

“Birds of prey,” Tristan added. Galahad noticed his eyes lit up as he said that, and suddenly it was like he was a different person altogether. “Beautiful, they are. Have you ever seen a hawk up close?” he asked, sounding almost childishly excited. Galahad found himself regretting having to shake his head, but it didn't dull Tristan's enthusiasm. “You really should, someday. We get lots of them this time of year. Irresponsible hunters and litterers and all that. Poor things come in by the dozens.”

That sounded almost like a veiled invitation, but Galahad wasn't sure how to safely respond to it. He barely knew this man. “Perhaps someday,” he replied cautiously.

Tristan seemed to accept the answer, taking another gulp of coffee. “Your turn,” he said.

“I'm...sorry?”

“To tell me why you're here, and what you do. A trade off?” Tristan offered.

“Oh, right.” Galahad mulled it over, choosing his words carefully. “The estate was my grandparents'. I barely knew them, but apparently they didn't have anyone else to give it to when they passed, so.” He shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “I inherited it. Father was pleased, Mother was somewhat...unimpressed. She's never been much of a horse-person. Anyway, it was a far better alternative to living in an apartment and having to pay for Nero's board, so I moved here.” 

Tristan seemed to take in the information before looking at him pointedly. “And your work?”

Galahad sighed. He'd been hoping to avoid that topic but he should've known better from the outset. It really was only fair to tell him, since Tristan had been so forthcoming with his own occupation and reasons for moving out in the sticks. “I am – was – a three-day event rider. High-level dressage, mostly. Now I just train horses for other people who compete in those events.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “That's a half-answer. What made you stop competing?”

The relaxed atmosphere was quickly slipping away into tension, once again. “I took a fall once,” he replied after a moment. “Didn't feel like getting back on.” He hesitated before adding quietly, "Eventually I did. But competing has never been the same."

Across the table, Tristan was regarding him with an unnerving expression. One that clearly said he somehow knew that Galahad was leaving something important about the incident out. Galahad thought he might continue to pry but was pleasantly surprised that he didn't. Instead, the seconds ticked past in an almost comfortable silence.

Galahad stared down at the thin layer of cooled coffee at the bottom of his mug and briefly considered calling it a day, retrieving Nero - again - and heading home. As it was he was beginning to realize how much he'd just told an almost complete stranger about his life, while said stranger had still managed to keep himself as enigmatic as possible, save his apparent fondness for birds of prey. As liberating as it was starting to feel to divulge his past, even just a little, a small, slightly more paranoid part of his mind was still calling it a mistake.

He should go. He really should. But instead of leaving, Galahad gestured with his mug to the coffee pot, still lingering on the stove top. "Would you mind if I stayed for a refill?"

 

-0-0-0--

Nero took a moment away from his grazing to glance up at the small house his person had disappeared into. Oscar shuffled over to join him, still munching on a mouthful of the tasty grass that grew in his pasture. Nero's pasture didn't taste nearly as nice. He nickered questioningly over at the gelding.

_Do you think they're getting along?_

Oscar blinked and stopped chewing, raising his head a bit to consider the house. _Only time will tell._ He blew out a breath of air softly and then nudged Nero's shoulder with his muzzle. _There's plenty of grass to be had in the meantime._

Nero snorted in agreement before lowering his head to return to grazing, Oscar following suit in short order. _There certainly is, my friend. There most certainly is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Do NOT do what Tristan did, folks. 9 times out of 10 a stallion should not be turned out with other horses unless it's for breeding purposes. Even then it can be dangerous.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galahad gets two new clients, and does NOT creepily spy on Tristan. They go on a trail ride and something unexpected (or rather entirely expected) happens.

After the lengthy, surprisingly pleasant conversation that had taken place in Tristan's kitchen, Galahad made a point of looking up wildlife sanctuaries in the surrounding towns. He found only one that had matched what little Tristan had divulged about it. It was called the Badon Wildlife Sanctuary, and apparently took in all sorts of wildlife that had been injured under various circumstances. According to its website, the sanctuary also had an extensive rehabilitation and release program for animals who could be nursed back to health, most notably birds of prey.

Galahad bookmarked the site and decided to spend more time studying it when he had the free time. He knew his hours would likely be stretched thin for the foreseeable future, with two geldings arriving for basic dressage training at week's end. He wasn't looking forward to dealing with the owner of the first gelding; he seemed to be a rather nasty man, and not very experienced. The horse was supposedly well-trained already with excellent ground manners, but Galahad would bet that it arrived with very minimal training whatsoever. These types of people and their horses were almost always easy to predict.

Completely contrary to the problematic client, he'd met with the owner of the other gelding earlier that week and had been rather impressed. It was a young teenager who was interested in learning to compete professionally in dressage, with the support of his adoptive father. He'd done the smart thing and gone for an experienced trainer to help him get started, as well as finding a good coach whom Galahad was familiar with. From what he could tell, the boy possessed a natural ease and aptitude with the horses that would serve him well in the ring. Galahad would have to make a mental note to follow his progress when he began competing.

The first visit that Galahad paid to Tristan's the following week was, surprisingly, not because he needed to retrieve his wayward horse. He'd decided to take Nero out for a short hack along the less-traveled back roads and just happened to choose the one that led right by the familiar arch he'd been seeing a lot of lately. He tried to tell himself it was simply a coincidence that he'd chosen this route, but in the back of his mind he knew very well that wasn't entirely true.

Galahad was surprised to see that Oscar's pen was empty, before he heard a light cadence of loping hoofbeats. He rode by the small house, craning his neck to see where they were coming from, and vaguely noticed Nero doing the same. As it turned out, the source of the hoofbeats was a field behind the pastures that bordered the front of Tristan's property. From this angle he could just make out Tristan astride his cantering gray gelding, partially obscured by the fencing.

He cued Nero to a halt, which...really didn't require anything but his permission to stop, since his stallion was already dead-set on doing it anyways. Galahad watched curiously as Oscar cantered into sight, noting with a bit of surprise that there was no tack between Tristan and his horse, aside from a simple bridle and reins. He settled back more comfortably in his saddle to watch. Purely professional curiosity from one horseman to another, he told himself stubbornly. Nero was more than content to keep his eyes on his 'boyfriend', anyways, tail swishing lightly to and fro and ears pricked towards the other pair.

Galahad's eyes tracked their movements. Tristan was an experienced rider, that much was clear. His seat was solid and he appeared almost melded with Oscar's back, completely balanced even without stirrups to steady him. It was obvious that he was in perfect sync with his horse, his body swaying with the rhythm of the dappled gelding's strides. It was a pleasure to watch the pair as they loped around the field.

He watched for a long while, as they alternated between trot and canter work. Oscar was fit, and hardly seemed tired even after so many laps. Tristan finally pulled him to a walk and Nero took the opportunity to whinny at his friend, drawing the attention of both Oscar and his rider. Galahad felt panic prick his spine and he nudged Nero to get going. Perhaps if they left now it'd look like they were just passing by and Galahad hadn't...you know...been sitting there watching Tristan creepily for a half-hour.

Nero was not having any of it. He snorted and stubbornly stood still, tossing his head in protest. Shoulders slumping, Galahad resigned himself to offering an awkward wave at Tristan. He returned it and shouted something across the pastures, but he was too far away to make it out. Galahad sighed heavily and turned Nero around, steering him through the far-too-familiar arch. He had to keep reminding the stallion that he didn't need to bolt down the pathway to the field, that they'd get there soon enough and that dislodging Galahad with a sudden jump into a gallop wasn't going to do him any favors.

Halfway through an admonishment that involved a reduction in carrot rations, Galahad reined up beside Tristan, who looked vaguely amused. That seemed to be Tristan's default expression where Galahad was concerned. “Hello,” Galahad muttered. “Nero decided he wanted to visit his boyfriend at work, apparently.”

Tristan smirked and shrugged, shifting his reins to one hand so he could run a palm over Oscar's muscled neck. “He appreciated the audience.” He gave Galahad a pointed look and the other man hunched his shoulders defensively, embarrassed that he'd been spotted. He wondered just how long Tristan had known he was watching him. “You aren't exactly stealthy, you know. That saddle must be fairly new. I could hear the creaking clear across the pasture.”

Galahad huffed, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. _Change the subject._ “So...bareback?” he raised his eyebrows. 

Tristan accepted his deflection without further comment. “I prefer it for everyday riding,” he replied pensively. “Without the saddle in the way, I can feel his muscles working under me, the exact moment when he responds to my cues. It's much easier to predict his movements this way, as well. I can feel when he tenses and when he's going to bolt or sidestep.” He chuckled. “Additionally, not much to get tangled up in if I do take a tumble.”

Galahad nodded, chewing on the new information. Tristan seemed very in-tune with his horse's behavior, and he felt no little amount of respect for his naturalistic mindset. Still, he was curious. “What discipline do you ride? When you're not riding bareback, I mean.”

Tristan looked at him strangely. “I don't have a discipline,” he replied, sounding a bit confused. “I simply ride.”

Galahad opened his mouth to clarify what he'd meant; he'd only been asking what sort of saddle he used, but Tristan cut him off. “Feel like a trail ride?” he asked, nodding towards an opening in the copse of trees that surrounded the back half of his property. “It's pretty well-worn, I use it often.”

Hesitating, Galahad wondered if he should refuse. Nero wasn't experienced with off-the-road riding. He had no idea how he'd react if something were to spook him. But Tristan's eyes were bright with excitement, possibly at the prospect of having someone to ride with, and for some outlandish reason he realized didn't want to see that flicker die. Furthermore, he didn't want to give him a single reason to smirk at him for being afraid of getting bucked off. What kind of horseman would he look like then?

Galahad quirked an eyebrow, nodding at him. “You're going on a trail...without a saddle?” he replied skeptically. “What happens if he spooks?”

Tristan grinned. “I'd bet I would still have more of a chance of staying on than you with your...pancake, there.” He seemed to be considering Galahad's black English saddle. “You may want to consider lengthening your stirrups, at the very least. You'll have better balance that way.”

Galahad eyed him suspiciously but finally decided to take the advice. He reminded himself that Tristan knew what he was talking about, whereas he'd never really ridden trail before. He kicked his feet free of the stirrups and dropped each one down a notch. He picked them back up and fidgeted uncomfortably, not used to having his legs stretch down so far.

Tristan nodded in satisfaction and turned Oscar around, taking the lead. Galahad was impressed by how very little movement was required of the other rider's hands; they barely seemed to shift from their positions and yet the horse turned nearly over his haunches. Well-trained, indeed. He fell in beside him, Nero's head bobbing happily as he walked next to the gelding.

“Most of the trail is wide enough for two, but at some points we might need to go single file,” Tristan said. “I'll let you know ahead of time.” He sent a narrow-eyed glance his way. “Does yours kick?”

“Mine...?” Galahad had been distracted, watching the way Tristan's body moved with his horse. “Oh! Oh, Nero? N-no, he doesn't kick.” He could feel Tristan's suspicious gaze linger for a moment before he turned his head back to keep on their course. He laughed nervously. “I don't think he'd kick at Oscar, anyways. I would imagine that kicking your crush in the face isn't exactly the best way to get their attention.”

Tristan shrugged. “I suppose it might work for some.” 

Galahad blinked, trying to figure out if he was joking or serious. He didn't appear to be joking. “I'm a little concerned for your previous girlfriends,” he quipped.

Tristan glanced over, lips twitching slightly. “Who said they were girlfriends?” That took Galahad by surprise a bit, but then he realized he really shouldn't be surprised about anything concerning Tristan at this point. The man was a strange enigma. He almost wouldn't be shocked if the man told him he was from another planet entirely.

“Well, whatever they were,” he continued after a moment. “I sincerely hope your attempts at wooing them didn't involve kicking them in the face.”

Tristan chuckled at that. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sounds of nature and their horses carefully picking their way around tree stumps and roots. Galahad was happy to find that after becoming used to the longer stirrups, it really wasn't that bad. By the time they'd been riding for forty minutes, give or take, he was so relaxed he was even considering dropping his stirrups.

A moment later he was quite glad he didn't. A sharp rustling noise came from his right, just before a doe leaped across the trail just feet from them, startling Nero. Galahad's heart stopped for a beat when his stallion's muscles bunched. Before Galahad could react, the big grey started to rise on his hind legs, whinnying shrilly.

 _Oh gods, he's going up. What do I do? What was I supposed to do if he did this again?_ Galahad's mind raced, making it difficult for rational thought to get through. He could hear Tristan yelling something about leaning forward, and all of the sudden his mind was slammed back into place. He pushed himself up onto Nero's neck, reaching with his hands, still clutching the reins with a white-knuckled grip. 

What seemed like forever was merely a few seconds, and then the stallion's front hooves touched back to the ground. Galahad barely had a second to feel relief before Nero launched himself forward, head lowered and hindquarters flying skywards in a rather vicious buck. Balanced precariously on his neck as he was, Galahad was unable to right himself in time. The forest around him blurred and he realized belatedly that _oops I should have leaned back again._ He somersaulted through the air and landed flat on his ass on in the dirt and fallen leaves.

For a moment Galahad sat there, dumbfounded, the wind knocked out of him. Then he slowly registered Nero walking shamefully back over to him, staring at him with guilty eyes. The horse nudged his shoulder and Galahad let out a single, loud bleat of laughter. _That really wasn't so bad, actually._

Tristan jogged over – when had he dismounted? - leading Oscar behind him. “Are you alright?” he asked, looking worried. “Anything broken?”

Galahad grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing but my pride, I think,” he replied, sighing and dropping his head. The embarrassment was catching up to him, as was the growing soreness in his behind. “Well, and...” His voice trailed off, cheeks darkening.

The concern on Tristan's face lessened, but his expression still remained slightly skeptical about his condition. He offered a hand down to help him up. Galahad took it, pulling himself up stiffly and grabbing Nero's dangling reins. “Thanks.”

Tristan snorted, stroking Oscar's neck. “Hell of a first trail ride,” he said. “Hopefully this won't put you off them in the future.”

Galahad checked Nero's tack for damage before swinging back up and sitting gingerly, wincing. “And miss humiliating myself again?” he joked. “How could I pass up that opportunity?” He didn't rightly know why he was in such a good mood after being tossed from his horse like a grain sack. It could have just been the adrenaline, of course, but it felt almost...freeing. This was his first fall since his accident and it was somewhat of a relief that it was done and over with and that it hadn't been as serious as he'd been expecting.

Tristan was still watching him warily, but his shoulders had relaxed. He waited until he seemed sure Galahad was safely settled in his saddle before grabbing the crest of his horse's withers and vaulting aboard. Galahad admired the clean, precise movement; none of that clumsy 'floppy fish' technique that he'd often seen among other bareback riders.

“I think now is probably a good time to head back,” Tristan commented, turning Oscar around to face the way they'd come from. He didn't even look disappointed, just mostly relieved and slightly shaken, and Galahad wondered why it seemed like his fall had affected him more than it had affected Galahad.

“Alright. On one condition,” Galahad agreed reluctantly, turning Nero around as well to fall into step beside the other man and his gelding.

Tristan eyed him curiously, cocking his head to the side. “And what might that be?”

Galahad allowed himself to grin. “Coffee?”

-0-0-0-

Oscar snorted at Nero, admonishing. _Scared of a harmless little doe? Seriously? You're a stallion. A fully-grown stallion._

Nero looked suitably embarrassed and chastised. _She came out of nowhere! For all I knew, she could have been a coyote._

The gelding didn't look impressed. _Right. A coyote nearly as tall as you, bearing hooves._

Snorting, Nero shook his head in irritation. _It worked out fine, did it not? They are having that 'coffee' thing again. That ended well last time._

Oscar grudgingly had to agree. He surreptitiously started drifting closer to Nero until he could almost bump shoulders with him. With a little bit of luck, perhaps they could even convince Nero's owner to let him stay the night.

But only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hidden cameo by Lucan and Dagonet! (In case you didn't notice, Lucan is one of Galahad's clients (I made him a young teenager in this one) and Dagonet is obviously the adoptive father that is mentioned along with him). They will make a few appearances later on as well, since I adore their characters. And yes, the 'nasty' client is also a cameo. Bet you can't guess who (oh who am I kidding, of course you can).
> 
> \- Yes, yes I know...I couldn't resist slipping the 'Badon' into the wildlife sanctuary's name.
> 
> \- I just realized I have no idea exactly where this is all taking place. I'm so bad at deciding on locations for stories. Oh well?

**Author's Note:**

> \- The horses' names are based off the actual horses the actors rode in the movie. The real name of Hugh's horse was Jabonero but to make it easier, I shortened it to Nero. Oscar's name is exactly the same.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! I'm letting this story continue at its own pace so I'm unsure how many chapters there will be. I'm going to try to update every day of Tristhad Week and then a couple times a week after. Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated.


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